


Respect

by BradyGirl_12



Category: due South
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, Drama, Episode Related, Established Relationship, F/M, Het, Het and Slash, M/M, Male Slash, Plotting Murder, Revenge, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-02-24
Updated: 1999-02-24
Packaged: 2018-11-10 09:50:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11124711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BradyGirl_12/pseuds/BradyGirl_12
Summary: Victoria dreams and seethes.  Originally posted 9/14/98.





	Respect

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. Original pseudonym: Gilda Lily.  
> I was wearing my "VICTORIA'S SECRET" T-shirt today and  
> I was  
> inspired to write this. Enjoy!  
>  **Rated PG-13 for m/f and m/m**  
>  Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, Alliance does, more's the pity.  
> Comments can be made to:.  
> (c) September 6, 1998  
> 

  
Victoria sat in the chair in her nondescript hotel room, one leg  
draped over the arm and swinging back and forth in a gentle cycle, the  
other's thigh lovingly caressed by her own hand as she thought of her  
Ben.  
  
She loved Ben, of course. She loved his body, the way it felt  
against her, inside her, beneath her. She loved his naivete that drank  
in her mastery with every breath, and she loved his passive streak that  
allowed her to take the lead, as it should be. She had bound him to  
her  
with her body, as she had done to so many men before him. She  
had  
nearly thrown her head back and howled with laughter as they  
had made  
love in his dingy little apartment, as he'd been so virginal  
and anxious  
to please. Passive, but aggressive in the right moments.  
  
Her supremely-satisfied expression grew dark.  
That...that...*Vecchio*!...had ruined everything! His interference was  
the reason that her beloved Ben was not with her now, accepting her  
discipline as he was meant to be. Her hand lightly caressed the whip  
that rested by her thigh. Jolly had always loved her discipline.  
  
That balding, big-nosed, loud, obnoxious Italian thought that he  
had some claim on Ben! He could not bind her Ben to him with his body;  
they were just friends, but he thought that gave him to right to take  
him away from her.  
  
What was worse, her woman's body had known what lay beneath the  
baggy coats and shirts and pants. She had hated him from the first  
moment that she had laid eyes on him, and had known he was a rival.  
Their exchange in his sister's bedroom had shown her that he felt the  
same way, too. ("Listen, you hurt him and I'll kill ya.")  
And she had  
known, too, by the way he moved and the way he smiled,  
that there was  
fire and passion to match hers beneath that facade  
he cultivated. He  
knew power, but was too weak to use it.  
  
Weak like Ben, like all men, but especially Ben. Poor, sweet,  
passive Ben. So eager for the crumbs from her table. So lonely and  
needful and overflowing with romantic love. She laughed deep in her  
throat.  
  
She had kept tabs on him and Vecchio. Her contact regularly sent  
her pictures. Now Vecchio had shorn his head and dressed in dark,  
conservative clothing, becoming sleeker and sexier. She felt it deep  
in  
her bones. He would be a fine match for her, if he only could  
put aside  
his tiresome middle-class morality and join her. But sweet  
Ben was  
hers, and so easy to control. While Vecchio would be a challenge,  
Ben  
was her devoted handmaiden, pool boy, slave to her every whim.  
  
As it should be.  
  
Of course Vecchio had to be eliminated. With him gone, Ben would  
come with her without hesitation. She had seen his hesitation that  
night at the train station, him looking at Vecchio before deciding to  
run to her. There would always be a tie here if the Italian lived.  
Therefore, he could not.  
  
A knock on the door. She rose, wariness in her voice as she asked,  
"Who is it?"  
  
"Bellboy, ma'am."  
  
She opened the door and took the packet he handed her. She closed  
the door and looked at the postmark. A Chicago postmark. Excellent.  
She returned to her chair, placing the whip between her legs and  
opened  
the packet.  
  
She shrieked with fury and surprise, letting the first photo fall  
to the floor. For several minutes, her chest heaved as she stared with  
eyes lit from within at the far wall, then a sly smile spread across  
her  
face. She retrieved the photo. So. Vecchio had finally used  
his power  
and had bound Ben to him.  
  
Rivals of the body as well as of the heart. She looked at the  
other pictures, avidly running her gaze down the Italian's body. She  
had been right. A panther, a gazelle, a man of grace and elegance who  
knew how to use his attributes. He probably had Ben on his knees,  
eating from the fruits of his table, feeding him just enough to leave  
the beautiful one begging for more. A pity that such power and strength  
worthy of her had to be destroyed.  
  
Because now, Ben's grief would be that of a lover torn in half  
at  
the death of his mate. True, Vecchio was only a diversion while  
Ben  
waited for Victoria to return and claim him, but she knew her  
possession. He was a Commitment Forever kind of guy. She chuckled and  
began the pleasant task of entertaining notions of how her rival should  
die.  
  
Should it be some terribly poignant death, so very romantic as  
Ben  
held him in his arms and weeped, covered in his dear one's blood?  
Or  
perhaps a swift bullet in some random act? But then Ben would  
have that  
romantic memory of his lover dying in his arms, or the  
endless dizzying  
of a senseless death. It would be more difficult  
to get him to forget.  
  
Perhaps an illness? One which the doctors would be helpless to  
cure, with the proper suffering. After all, Vecchio deserved her  
respect, as one rival to another. There would be great angst to his  
dying, and time for heartfelt goodbyes. Combining romanticism with  
senselessness might just be overwhelming enough to numb Ben completely.  
  
But how to do it? She thought, then the mad light went on in her  
eyes. Of course! Rudy, who worked in the Medical Research Center, was  
bound to her by her body. He worked with dangerous viruses and had told  
her one night after making love (how men loved to brag while in bed,  
their cocks still hot against you, their semen drying on your thighs  
and  
belly!) how a new virus had been discovered, one that was deadly  
and  
extremely painful. Instead of burning with passion, Vecchio  
would burn  
with death.  
  
She squealed softly as she clutched the packet to her chest, her  
tongue licking her lips. Dear Ben with her once again! And her rival  
dispatched with the proper respect. Yes, yes, this would do.  
  
She picked up the phone and dialed a number. "Hello, Rudy?"  
  
Ray Vecchio was dead. All that was needed was for her to pick  
out  
the flowers for his grave and drag a numbed Ben away from it.  
  
Her body shuddered as she threw back her head in  
ecstasy.*  
  
  



End file.
